Come Fly With Me
by Skyfull0fdreams
Summary: Darren Criss never auditioned for the part of Blaine Anderson. Instead, he is a pilot of the cast's private jet during the summer of The Glee Live Tour. What happens when he meets one Chris Colfer? Crisscolfer AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi,**

**So I recently became a hardcore Crisscolfer shipper. This is only my second fic, so I would love some feedback.**

**Also, as you have probably noticed, I'm in desperate need for a beta. If you are interested please PM me.**

**X**

* * *

**Chris**

I can't believe it! Another Glee tour! This one will be even bigger than the last one. There will be a movie in 3D. I'm so exited I don't even notice it's an ungodly hour in the morning. We're at an airport and we've got our own jet. How cool is that? And-and-and-what was I thinking about again? I'm sure it was not even half as exciting as the guy that walks by right now. Description, you ask? Short curly hair, partly hidden by an adorable hat, gorgeous hazel eyes, slightly tan skin, annoying uniform that I wouldn't mind taking off that undoubtedly awesome body, and, hello, can I take a moment to appreciate that ass over there? Are pilot's uniforms always this nicely fitted? Oh, the things I would d-

"You're checking out that cute pilot guy!" Amber says entirely too loudly for my liking.

"No, I'm not!" I say rather unconvincingly, tearing my eyes away from that amazing butt. I had been staring and I am surrounded by girls that are desperately trying to get me laid. Smooth. I can just feel my face growing hot.

"You're blushing!" Ashley squeals. All of a sudden I regret my choice of friends. Separately Amber and Ashley are bad, but put those two together and it's like one big wall of high school girl giggles and inappropriate comments. Sometimes I forget why I love them. "You totally just checked out that ass!" Ashley states so very subtly.

I give up. If I don't give in I will never hear the end of this. "I check out cute guys very often," I admit with a roll of my eyes, "but nothing ever happens with them," I say. Okay, that sounds pathetic. It's not like **nothing** **ever** happens. It's just that... it has been a while since I've had some action.

"Aww, Sweetie," Amber says. I don't need her fucking pity. I eye the guy again. He is talking to a women in the female version of his uniform. Maybe I could use some of his pity... He looks in my direction and I know I should look away, but somehow I can't. I'm glad I didn't, because he winks at me. No, I'm imagining this or he had something in his eye.

"Oh my God, he winked at you!" Amber almost yells and elbows me in my ribs.

Okay, so I wasn't imagining it. "No, he didn't," I snort. "He was probably winking at you," I raise my eyebrows and elbow her in her ribs.

I see Amber and Ashley rolling their eyes at me. "Sure," they say teasingly at the exact same time.

The gorgeous guy and the women walk away. I am excited to see they are walking to our private jet. Just imagine an entire summer flying to all the amazing places in the world with my best friends and an amazingly cute pilot guy.

* * *

The entire flight I desperately try to think about something that doesn't involve the godly human being that is called Darren Criss. Someone introduced him and the women, Leslie Green, to us as our pilots for the summer.

I don't know how long the flight took, all I know is there is a low male voice over the intercom that tells us we arrived at our destination. I quickly gather the remainings of my breakfast and the magazine I tried to read. I head for the door and see I'm the last person on the plane.

All of a sudden Darren comes running from the cockpit. He seems to walk in my direction, but I try to keep my cool. "Excuse me, can you stay behind for a moment?" he asks me. I nod like the idiot I am.

"Something wrong?" I ask when I notice he is rather nervously waiting for everyone to walk down the stairs.

"No, not at all," he answers with a brief shake of his head. "I just need to see your ticket," he says nervously.

I grab the ticket from my pocket. Usually I would question why the pilot of a private jet needs to see my ticket. Like, if I wouldn't belong here, no one would have spoken up by now. But Darren is kind of distracting... I don't even get why I need a ticket for this thing anyway. "There you go," I say slightly awkwardly whilst handing him my ticket.

He takes a pen and writes something on it. "Alright, Mr. Colfer," he says formally and finishes scribbling on my ticket, "that's all I needed to do," he hands the ticket back with a cheeky grin. This time I'm almost positive I didn't imagine the wink.

"What happened?" Amber asks with wide eyes as I arrive at the bottom of the stairs.

I shrug. She is reading way too much in Darren's actions. I look at the ticket in my hand and start reading what Darren wrote while saying: "He needed to see my ticket and-" I cut myself off when I realize what is on the paper. "Oh my God!" I can't stop the words.

"What?" she asks curiously, trying to take the ticket from me, but I manage to keep it away from her.

"His phone number!" I say, unable to not include her in my excitement.

She gasps at me. "I told you he was winking at you!" Ashley says, I should have know she had been eavesdropping.

I look at the cellphone number in my hand. "Does he want me to call him?" I ask them. I know what you're thinking. You think I'm some socially undeveloped person. Well, I'm... I might be a little awkward. I'm not good at these things. There was this time I thought a guy was flirting with me, when he asked me to have dinner with him and I gave him a five minute lecture about how I thought flirting was good for our on-screen chemistry, but I would never actually date a co-worker. Then he informed me he had a girlfriend. That was my most awkward conversation with Grant ever. Great, now you know about my awkward start with Grant. He was really cool about it, though. We are very close friends.

Ashley gaps at me. "No, he just gave you that in case your mother found a new cake recipe and she wanted to share," her voice her voice is dripping with sarcasm.

"Of course he wants you to call him!" they yell in union.

This is going to be some summer.

* * *

I'm sitting on my bed, staring at the phone on my pillow. When I was alone I decided to put Darren's number in my contact list. Okay, it might have taken me like ten minutes to decide whether it would be creepy or not to add him to my contacts already. "I'm not good at this!" I say and bury my face in the pillow I'm holding. "Should I call, should I wait?" I ask, but I don't think Ashley and Amber heard me because of the pillow. I sit up straight again so they can hear me. "It would be weird if I would see him before I called him, right?" Yeah, that would be weird. It would seem like I'm not interested. I don't want him to know I'm interested, but still. But I've only met him once. Would I seem easy if I would call him right now. Easy is not the right impression. "I'm just going to wait." I decide. No, that sounds like a terrible idea. "Should I do that?"

Amber sighs and gets up from her seat in the corner of the hotel room. She snatches my cell from the pillow and presses a few buttons. With a mysterious grin she pushes the device against my ear. "Hello?" I hear Darren's voice. I can't believe she is making me call him. I don't know what to say. I have no strategy. I should probably say something.

"Hi," I breath. "I-It's Chris. You know we met this morning at the-" my rambling is cut off by his melodic laughter. That is without a doubt the best sound I've ever heard.

"I remember you, Chris," he says, his smile audible in his voice. My name sounds good when he says it.

"So..." I say awkwardly, not really knowing what to say, "you gave me your number," I state. Amber and Ashley motion for me to keep the conversation up. I just don't really know how. "Why?" I ask due to a lack of a better thing to say. Amber literally slaps her hand to her forehead.

Darren, apparently, thinks it's funny, because he breaths out another chuckle. "Because I wanted to ask you if we could maybe grab some coffee sometime?" he asks rather shyly. My jaw goes slack. The hottest guy I have ever laid an eye on just asked me out. Stay calm. Deep breaths.

"Oh, coffee?" I say casually as if my heart didn't just skip a beat. "Yeah, sounds great!" okay there goes my cool. That sounded a little too eager. "When?" I ask in a remarkably lower voice. That sounded just creepy.

"I'm free whenever I'm not flying you guys around," Darren laughs nervously, "so you pick," he offers.

Shit. I can't pick. I don't know the appropriate time. I can't sound too eager, nor too cold. I look at Amber and Ashley for help, but they just stare at me in a mixture of disappointment and anger. They must be hating me for not being able to casually flirt with the most attractive guy ever. "Tomorrow morning?" I blurt out. Smooth. That's in, like, eleven hours. I don't sound desperate at all!

"Sounds great!" Darren responds enthusiastically. Okay, so he doesn't think I'm some kind of lonely, male version of a sad cat lady. That's a start. A great start.

"Great," I breath, I can't help but notice how stupid that sounded. He just said _great_ already, it sounds like I'm repeating him.

"Great," he confirms. That sounded even more awkward. There is an awkward silence that neither of us seem to know how to break.

"We've said _great_ too many times," I state the obvious. I feel like slapping myself for being me, but Darren's music-like laughter sounds again. I join him for a split second.

"Yes, we did," he chuckles. "So..." he drags out the word, "see you tomorrow?" he asks, his tone flirtatious.

"See you tomorrow," I confirm.

"Great," he jokes and I can't help but bark out a brief laugh. We end the call and I turn to Ashley and Amber.

"We're going for coffee, tomorrow," I inform them, sounding more enthusiastic than I planned on.

"You don't even drink coffee," Ashley deadpans.

Oops. Oh well, I guess will just have to hide my disgust while downing a cup. In my defence, can you blame me for being distracted by Darren's voice? "I don't care," I say curtly and make the giggling girls leave my room; I need to be well rested for tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Darren**

When I signed up for this job I wasn't expecting to find a date. I said _yes_ to this private jet thing because I really needed the money. I wasn't looking forward to working with the cast of some tv show at all. I have always thought actors would be arrogant and a bunch of divas.

That's what my dad used to tell me when I told him I wanted to be an actor. He said fame brought out the worst in people. So I became a pilot, just like he wanted me to. And I hate every single second of it. I did this for him, but he has done nothing but make me unhappy. In the last two years of my life I have been the closest to happiness I've ever been. I don't think it's a coincidence that I started to slightly enjoy my life when my father stopped contacting me.

Anyway, I'm sure you've had enough of my stupid daddy issues. Here comes the good news: I'm going to be an actor/musician. I don't care what it will do to me, or what monsters I get to work with, because those few hours I've spent at the community theater were the best hours of my life. If that's what being an actor is like, then_ bring it on._ I know I'll have to work my way through the crowd of arrogant actors at some point, but that's the part I'm not looking forward to. Maybe there is an exception on the rule? Maybe I will be that exception. Maybe Chris is.

Right, back to my date with Chris. I don't really know what tv show the people I'm working with are on because I wasn't planning on liking any of the cast members or even talking to them, really. But I figured it would be a lonely summer if my only company would be Leslie Green. And Chris seemed to be quite enthusiastic about starting the tour. Enthusiasm is a quality I certainly can appreciate. So, tomorrow, we're going on a date to... where are we going? We didn't agree on a place or a time. Should I call him again? No, texting. Texting is good.

I type a messages and send it before I can start over thinking and re-type it till in the end of times.

**Hi, I realized we didn't pick a time and place. Any ideas for coffee in Las Vegas? -D**

I've been here a couple of times before, but I couldn't tell you for the love of God where to find a coffee shop. When I'm in a city I usually look for places that are special, places few others know about.

I get buzzed out of my thoughts by Chris' reply.

_Oops. Yeah, a time and place would be great. (I'm sorry, I had to!) But according to Google it's either Hard Rock Cafe or Starbucks. -C_

I smile at the text and decide to mess with him for a little bit.

**Hard Rock Cafe. -D**

I send the text and I almost immediately get a text in return.

_Really? -C_

I can't believe he actually thinks I'm taking him on a first date to a Hard Rock Cafe.

**No, just kidding. Although, I do enjoyed some hard cock every once in a while. -D**

_... -C_

Is all he writes. I don't get his answer. Did I say something wrong? I read my last text and- Oh my God! I can't believe I actually sent that! He must think I'm some pervert! It was supposed to say rock! I hate my cell, it's really not cooperating.

**_ROCK_****! It was supposed to say ****_ROCK_****! I swear I didn't type that! What is wrong with my cell? Auto corrector, go straight to he'll! -D**

Really? Really, Apple? He'll? Thanks for proving my point. Auto corrections really suck.

**That's it, I'm giving up on texting. -D**

I hit send. I must seem mental to him right now. Thank you, Steve Jobs! Thanks for ruining my date.

_I'm laughing my ass off right now! -C_

Okay, so he doesn't think I'm some gross little man who is trying to get in his pants. I'm sorry I yelled at you, Steve, I think you're a cool guy. In fact, I'll give you an useful piece of advice. Lose the bloody turtle neck!

Right, back to damage control.

**So... I'll see you tomorrow? -D**

I repeat the words I spoke earlier on the phone.

_See you tomorrow. Let's say nine thirty at Starbucks on Las Vegas Boulevard. Good night, Darren. -C_

Yay! No rejection. Okay, maybe I'm a little more excited about this date than I thought. I mean, he's kind of cute when he stutters and is being a little awkward. And I've seen him looking when he thought I couldn't see him. Also, I might have done some glaring...

**Good night, Chris. -D**

I send my final text. I open my laptop to find out what show he is on. It would be weird if I wouldn't know, right? I type his name in to my search bar and quickly find out he is on Glee. I've heard of it. I think it's about singing teens, because people compare it to High School Musical. I don't know why I've never seen it, I guess it just sounded a little cliche to me. Maybe I should check it out some other time. But, for now, sleep.

* * *

I hit the snooze button for the fifth time. Groaning, I reach for my cell to see what time it is. SHIT! It's nine and I don't know how long it takes for me to get to Las Vegas Boulevard! I jump out of bed and get undressed in record speed. I shower in two minutes and dry myself off while picking an outfit. I decide to wear a pair of khakis and a plain purple V-neck. I don't need breakfast, because I'll just grab one of those breakfasts there. I grab my leather jacket and almost leave, but I realize I haven't brushed yet and I'm not wearing any shoes. I put on my black Vans without any sock and brush my teeth. I grab my wallet and cell on the way out.

Turns out, it was right around the corner and I'm five minutes early. I sit down at a table for two and wait for Chris. I wait ten minutes, but it seems like a century. Maybe he stood me up. Maybe he just played with me. He probably just- Oh, there he is.

Okay, he really is cute. His hair is pushed back he is wearing a geeky, blue superman t-shirt. His jeans are slightly worn off. He finally spots me. When he reaches my table I greet with one of those one-arm hugs, because I think a full embrace would be too much.

"I'm sorry I'm a little late," he says with a guilty expression on his face. "I over slept."

I laugh, because I had the exact same problem. "Me too, so we're even," he smiles and nods.

His gorgeous blue eyes dart to the counter. "Have you ordered yet?" he asks.

My stomach grows at the thought of food. I had forgotten I was starving. "Nope," I confirm the point my stomach had already made.

Together, we walk to the counter and wait in line. When we reach the counter the bistra's eyes widen. I think it's odd, but Chris acts like nothing is wrong. I order a medium drip and one of those Starbucks breakfasts. Chris chooses a green tea and the same breakfast. "I'm such a fan of yours!" the bistra says, her voice high pitched. Now I get it. She's a fan. A fan of Chris, because he's famous. "I'm going to see the show, tomorrow night. Could I maybe have an autograph?" she squeaks.

"Of course, sweetie," Chris says as if it happens to him all the time. Wait a second, this does happen to him all the time. "There you go," he says and hands her the napkin he used to scribble his autograph on.

"Thank you," she says in awe. I see the price of our beverages and pull my wallet out of my pocket when I see Chris reaching for his. I'm glad to see I beat him to it, because I asked him out, I should pay. "Don't bother, it's on me," the girl, whose name tag says Sandy, says.

I blink at her. Is she seriously telling me I don't have to pay because I'm with Chris? That doesn't seem fair; her job is to sell coffee, not to hand it out for free. "You don't have to-"

She interrupts me. "I insist," she says and pushes the food closer to Chris and I.

"Thank you very much, Sandy," Chris smiles brightly at her. "See you at the show, tomorrow," he waves and takes the food from the counter. I bid Sandy goodbye and leave with my food.

I can't help but feel guilty that I don't have a clue what Sandy was talking about when she complimented Chris' work. "I'm sorry," I blurt. He gives me a weird look, because my apology came out of the blue. "I haven't seen your show," I explain. "I knew I was signing up for a summer with big tv stars, but I didn't really know what show you guys are on. So I looked it up," he raises his eyebrows at my confession. "I've heard about Glee, but I've never really seen it. But I don't know why, I'm a big High School Musical fan, so..." I trail off awkwardly. That was a total word vomit.

He gasped at me and puts a hand on his chest. Did I offend him? "Wow, that hurtd really bad," he says, so I probably said something wrong. "I'm not in High School Musical. Why does everyone always compare those things to each other?" he asks, obviously offended by my comment.

I shouldn't have said that. I guess I wouldn't like being compared to High School Musical if I were an actor. "I-I'm sorry," I say, because it's clearly a soft spot.

To my surprise I see a smile appear on his face. "No, it's fine, I'm joking. Ryan, my boss, claims to never have seen it. I don't believe him. I'm basically Ryan Evans on the show," I have to take a moment to figure whether he is being serious, or not. I don't think he's joking. I can't imagine him in fashionable clothes like Ryan's. "And Cory, the really tall guy, would be Troy," it's not very hard to remember who he is talking about. One of Chris' friends is a total giant. He is about twice my size! I don't get the reference, though. Zac Efron is insanely hot. Cory, on the other hand, isn't ugly, but he is no Zac Efron. "And Lea, the really short girl that was all over Cory, would totally be Gabriella," I nod thoughtfully. I guess I should have seen the show to get those references. My expression must have shown my guilt, because he covers my hand with his and says: "Don't feel guilty you haven't seen it, I prefer it. The things they make me do on that show..." he shakes his head slowly, probably recalling some of the mysterious things he has done. "Actually," he goes on, "I'm forbidding you to watch it," he says sternly and uses his hand that covered mine moments ago to point at me.

He is making me curious. I should defiantly have a look at his work later. "Maybe I will," I tease him.

"You won't," he demands. Oh, yes, I will.

* * *

I am really enjoying my date with Chris so far. He turns out to be extremely my type; kind of geeky, slightly awkward, driven and head strong. We found out we have a lot in common. We started a kind of game; we take turns coming up with questions that both of us have to answer. "Favorite movie?" it's my turn to ask a question.

"Star Wars," he says immediately, "Harry Potter, Sister Act, Harry Potter, again. Don't make me choose," he almost begs me. Okay, did I say he was cute before? What I meant to say was: He is absolutely _adorable_!

"I won't," I promise him and he looks actually relieved. "Mine is defiantly Harry Potter," I state. I wasn't sure if I should openly admit it before, but I guess his own geek out meant he wouldn't judge me.

It's his turn for a question. He taps his finger to his pink, slightly moist lower lip. Not that I've paid any attention to his lips. I totally haven't been wondering how those lips would feel against mine. I haven't wondered if I would find out later, either. No, that would be inappropriate. I barely notice he voiced his question. "Favorite country?"

"Italy. Without a doubt," I say confidently. I have been all over the world, I've seen so many counties, cultures, people, landscapes. But Italy is the perfect combination of food, climate, culture, language, architecture and just the vibe. I can't put a finger on it, it's just my weakness. I don't define myself as easy, but if you take me to a good Italian restaurant with a real Italian chef and real Italian music, I will spread my legs for you. Yes, Chris, that inner monologue was meant for to you.

Chris gives me a look that says 'Why am I not surprised?' "I've never been there," he says.

"I've lived there for a bit," I tell him. He looks impressed. "I speak Italian. It's so great," did I mention we're still keeping up the lame _great_ joke? No? Well, we are.

"Really?" I nod at his question. He gives me an approving look. "Mine is France. My French really isn't impressive, though," he answers his own question. France... Paris, nice food, language of love, great wine. I think I like this guy.

Okay, my turn to ask the question. Should I try to take this game a little further? No, that would be weird. You know, what about a compromise? I'll just ask a slightly less PG question. "What do you wear as sleep wear?" was that slightly less PG, or was it just creepy?

He laughs at my question. "I don't sleep," he says. That's not an answer. He can't avoid the question like that. It's a rule. A rule I just made up, but it's a rule nonetheless.

"Come on," I whine, "if you tell me I'll tell you I sleep butt naked," OMG I hope he thinks I'm joking. Please let him think I'm joking? What is wrong with my filter? It's like my brain and mouth aren't working together.

He doesn't respond right away. That's it. I scared him off. Just when I'm about to apologize, a smug smile appears on his face. "I guess that's for you to find out," he answers with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and a twinkle in his eye. My jaw goes slack for a moment, but I manage to stop my embarrassing gaping before it can happen. "Most embarrassing story, go!" he exclaims the question. It's more like a demand. I need some time to recover from his comment before I can respond.

"No, don't make me," I beg. How can he ask me to tell an embarrassing story? That's mean. If he gets to back out when I ask about his sleep wear I get to back out of this question. "You didn't answer my question, either," I say.

"I said you should find out yourself. You can find out," he says playfully. Thank you for reminding me of your comment about sleeping with me, Chris. Well, it wasn't directly about that, but what else could it mean?

"Fine," I sigh heavily. "I was drunk," I start. He immediately looks interested. "The drunkest I've ever been. The kind of drunk when you need someone to hold you up and you suddenly don't get why you hate the people you hate anymore," I ramble. He nods, so I guess he knows what I'm talking about. "So, yeah, that kind of drunk. And somehow I ended up in only my briefs, a hat and my t-shirt rolled up," I say, blushing. He raises his eyebrows in interest and smiles at me. "And my friends took a picture and put it on the internet. But I didn't know. So a few days later my mother called me because she had seen it. She grounded me," I don't think he understands the embarrassing part. "I was in college. At the other side of the country," I explain. He laughs out loud at my confession. It's a beautiful sound, but I'm still really embarrassed. "I think it's still on the internet somewhere," I say. I shouldn't have said that. I really shouldn't have.

He pulls out his Blackberry and starts pressing buttons. "I'm searching," he says with a devilish smile playing on his lips.

He can't be searching for it! He is not doing this! "No," I say firmly, but his focus is on the screen. "You're not!" I say, louder this time. He keeps typing things. "Stop it!" I yell and practically run to the other side of the table. I try to grab his phone, but he keeps avoiding my grabbing hands. "Give me that cell!" I scream. "Give it to me! Right now!" I order, but his smile grows wider and I know exactly what he saw.

"I found it!" he says way too proudly for my liking.

"No!" I cream in absolute panic. "No, you did not!" I deny, but I know he found the picture.

He studies the picture closely while I try to get hold of the phone. "Don't worry," he says. He sounds approving, but I guess he is being sarcastic, because I have a lot to worry about. That picture for instance, "you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

I'm still trying to take the stupid device away from him, but I don't succeed. "Excuse me?" an overly bored voice comes from behind me. I turn around to see a girl in an apron. I guess she's seventeen years old and she looks like she could give me a hundred reasons why she doesn't want to be here. "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," she sounds so bored I'm getting depressed just listening to her.

"Why?" Chris asks, still a little bit giggly because of the 'playful' fight.

"You're being too loud," she sighs.

She is being unreasonable. I did nothing wrong. My actions were perfectly understandable! "You would do the same if you would be in a picture like that and your date would find the picture!" Chris is laughing his ass of because the girl is still supporting an impressive pokerface.

"You still have to leave," she shrugs.

There isn't a reasonable fiber in this teen's body. "Fine," I say and make my way to leave the shop.

Chris isn't following me. Instead, he unlocks his Blackberry and shows the picture. "In case you're wondering, this is the picture."

To my surprise the girl's pokerface changes to a expression that I can't really place. It seems to be a mixture of shock and approval. I grab Chris' arm and pull him away from the poor girl. She must be scared for life. "You are coming with me, right now, Mister!"

So that was a disaster. Luckily we agree on not ending the date like that. He asks me where we should go now and I have a great idea all of a sudden. When I was here I accidentally stumbled upon a place that would be perfect for a date. It's only a block away. I tell Chris to follow me as I lead him to the place. We end up in front of a hole in a hedge. I tell him to step through the hole. He looks at me, horrified. "What are you going to do to me?" he asks.

I realize how creepy that must have sounded. "Oh my God this totally looks like I'm gonna rape you," I laugh. Wow, that didn't make me sound any less like a rapist. "I'm not! I swear!" I promise him. I tell him I'll go first.

I step through the hole in the hedge and he follows me. His eyes widen when he sees what the hole leads to. In front of us is a big garden with a dirt path that has trees at both sides, it looks like a wedding location out of a movie. Everywhere we look is green. It's hard to believe we're still in Las Vegas. It seems impossible this is the same place as at the other side of the hedge. The only reminder is the hot morning sun shining high in the sky.

"What's this?" Chris asks in awe. I can't answer his question. I wouldn't be surprised if this is, in fact, a wedding location.

"I don't know," I admit honestly. Usually I wouldn't tell how I found this place, but my filter seems to be out of order today. "I discovered it a while back when I was just wandering around and I needed to pee. I wanted some privacy so I stepped through the hedge, but instead of privacy I found this," Okay, there are so many lies that would have sounded less weird than the truth. "I thought we could continue our date here," it's a pleasure to see he ignores my word vomit. I walk us to a tree and sit down.

"It's beautiful," Chris says, still taking everything in, "but we've already been kicked out of Starbucks, do you want to get kicked out of someone's garden, too?" I don't know if he is joking, or being serious.

If he can behave we won't get kicked out. It was his fault, after all. "You got us kicked out," I nudge him with my shoulder.

"Nu-uh," he objects, "you were yelling," he nudges me harder with his shoulder.

I gasp at him. Is he implying it was my fault? "You were looking for the picture!" I point out.

He rolls his eyes. "Again," he starts, "there is no need to be shamed," I roll my eyes at him. Nonverbally saying 'Suuure...' "Yes, the pose was a little flamboyant, but I blame that on the amount of alcohol," he waves his hand. "Other than that," he pauses and blushes a little, "it was pretty hot."

He called me hot? That's points for me, right? I decide to just let it slip for now. I should never have told him that stupid st- wait a second, he never told me his story! I'm sooo not letting this slip! "I never got to ask about your story," I tease.

"Okay," he sighs. "I used to have a boyfriend and we were taking things slow. When we had been dating for quite a while we decided to sleep together. Big deal and all that, because we were virgins," Is he going to tell me how he lost his virginity? "And somehow I failed to mention I had a sleep walking problem. So in the middle of the night he woke up to me, watching him, sitting in a chair next to the bed, eating cereal," oh my God, I can totally imagine how creepy that must have been. "We never had sex again," he adds, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

His story is bad, but mine is worse. Any idea how embarrassing it is to tell your college friends your mom grounded you? No? You don't want to find out. My friends are still giving me a hard time about it. "Did you get grounded while you were in college?"

"No?" Chris says, obviously confuses why I would ask that question.

"Then I win," I tease him. I don't know if I have the right to tease him about this, but I like it anyway.

He smiles at me and straightens his back. "Okay, winner, what do you want as your prize?"

Should I be daring? Is this him asking me to ask him to kiss me? Wow, my brains hurts after that sentence. But, is it? Because that would be awesome. But maybe this is just him being playful. He is watching me, waiting for my wish. Wait, if he has to grand me a wish, he is like me genie, right? A genie has to obey their master. Okay, that sounds like some kinky sex thing. Not what I was going for. "A kiss from the adorable guy in front of me," I say before I can give the kinky master/genie thing another thought.

An adorable blush dusts his cheekbones. He smiles and leans in closer. "I think I can arrange that for you," he says, lips only inches apart from mine. Both of us rush to lock our lips in a passionate kiss. His hand is on my neck, pulling me impossibly closer. My hand is on his shoulder, doing the same. Our tongues find each other halfway and I can't remember when we made the kiss open mouthed. It is without a doubt the hottest, yet sweetest first kiss I've ever had.

Unfortunately the sweetness comes to an end when we hear a man shout at us. "What are you two doing here?! Who are you?! Get out of here!" The man yells and starts to run to our tree. Chris grabs my hand and drags me to the hole in the hedge. We don't stop running until we're absolutely positive we've outrun the man.

Panting breathlessly we come to a stop. Still giggling because it feels like we've just made our way safely out of the principal's office after we've been naughty. It wasn't a perfect first date, nor a perfect ending of a first kiss, but it was just what we needed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone,**

**Thank you all so much for reading my story. It means a lot to me and your reviews make me incredibly happy.**

**I haven't answered the question of kurtcoblaine-klainetrain yet. Yes, Darren plays guitar and sings (it's his passion), but no one finds out about that yet. **

**This chapter is al little different from the others, because this one is not written form our two boys'point of view and it's shorter. I'm really not satisfied with the ending, but I hope you like this chapter anyway.**

**Please tell me what you think about it.**

* * *

**Mark**

I'm seated at the breakfast table with the guys. Chord is on my right and an empty seat on my left. I purposely kept that seat free, because Chris hasn't shown up yet. Sometimes Chris chooses for the girls, sometimes he picks us to spend his time with. So, there is a 50% chance he will sit next to me.

Chris and I are friends. We're good friends. I like being his friend, but I would love being more than that. Sigh. I haven't had the heart to act on my feelings for Chris, because I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself. I guess I should have known I was bi all along; when girls talk about hot/cute guys I just get it. I've never thought much of it, I just thought I had good taste, no matter the circumstances.

But then Chris decided to turn my world upside down. He just walked in to my life with his stunning blue/gray/green eyes and blew me away. It's like I lose control when I'm with him; I turn in to a blushing teenager and do anything to get his attention. I know I should hate the feeling of losing control over myself, but it's the best feeling in the world.

The only thing that can make me any happier would be Chris returning those feelings. I know that won't happen, though. Especially if I don't grow any balls and tell him about my feelings. But it's just... hard. I mean, I never talk about my feelings, so how am I supposed to tell my male friend, who I work with, I'm in love with him? This is what's on my mind more often than not, lately.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't tell him. It happened more than once that I was on the very edge of tears when I was about to tell him, but chickened out in the end. He had been so sweet and caring, those times. He's just... perfect. That's the only word that could ever get just a tiny little bit close to describing him.

He walks in to the room. He is looking gorgeous as ever, but the smile he is wearing makes him look much more beautiful if that is even possible. He goes straight to the food. That's Chris, he's practically addicted to free food. I don't know where all the food goes, because the guy is in shape! I'm serious, can we take a moment to appreciate his figure? Everything about the guy is breathtaking; his hair that looks good no matter what, his eyes that change color so they never get boring to stare at, his cute nose that makes him look like he stepped out of a fairytale, his lips that look so delicious, his strong jawline that makes him even more boyish, his long pale neck- okay I'll stop. I can go at this for hours, but I won't bore you like that. All I'm trying to say is that he's perfect in every way possible.

He sits down next to me, which makes my heart jump. He doesn't say anything, though. His eyes are focused on his cellphone and he covers his mouth with a hand to muffled a giggle. A fucking giggle! I know that smile. He was wearing it all the time when he was dating that idiot. What was his name again? Ronald, Roland, Robert, whatever. Does this mean there is another boyfriend? I don't know if I can handle another jackass that gets to be what I want to be. But I'll never be that guy for him. I'm still hoping things will change if I would tell him, but deep down inside I know we'll never be together. Can you imagine us together? That's the problem: I can't. I've tried numerous times, but I just can't imagine us together. When I try to picture Chris and I holding hands or kissing, the picture just doesn't appear. Like it's absurd, like it could never exist. That makes this situation even more depressing.

"Hey," Grant, who is seated left from Chris, says, but Chris doesn't seem to hear him. I would love to do that, too, sometimes, just ignore Grant. I don't dislike Grant, quite the opposite. He's my friend and I like spending time with him. It's just that, sometimes, I really envy him. Fine, I envy him all the time. You see, his character's name is Blaine Anderson. Blaine is Kurt's boyfriend. So Grant gets to kiss Chris on set. Also, they flirt all the time. Grant is straight and the flirting is to improve their chemistry on screen. They call it staying comfortable with each other. But I can't stop wondering what it would be like if I could just grab Chris' hand or compliment him on his skin tight jeans. If I would do that it would be weird, but Grant can just check him out and no one bats an eye. "Do you want some orange juice?" Grant offers in an attempt to get Chris' attention. Chris only has eye for his Blackberry, though. I can only hope he isn't texting a guy. "Or toast," Grant tries, but Chris doesn't notice.

A devilish smirk appears on Chord's face. "Or fingernails in your tea?" Chord asks Chris, but the gorgeous guy stays completely oblivious to their nonsense.

"There is some llama poop in your hair," Cory says. Okay, what is going on on that screen if he doesn't even notice that? I try to read what the screen says, but I don't have clear enough view. I don't even know if I want to know what the conversation is about. What if it really is his boyfriend? Could I handle the sickening cute messages?

For some reason Grant leans closer to Chris. "Hey, you, me, in my room in ten minutes," he whispers in a low voice. See, this is what's bothering me. He can just say things like that and get away with it. Why can't I?

"Grant, what the hell?" Chris squeaks in panic. Of course he heard that one.

"Look, he's awake!" Grant exclaims enthusiastically. He's obviously proud his man-whore plan worked. Okay, that's not nice of me. Grant is not a man-whore. He just acts like one around Chris. Ugh, I can't come up with anything nice about him, can I? He really is a nice guy, but he shouldn't be allowed anywhere near Chris.

"Who are you texting?" Chord asks, his tone teasing. I swear these guys are worse than girls sometimes. On second thought, I take that back. Don't ask me why, but I've attended to a girls' sleep over once. I'M NEVER MAKING THAT MISTAKE AGAIN! They go in vivid detail over everything. Lea told things about Cory that I'm still trying to forget. I mean, I'm supposed to share a dressing room with the guy all summer. I really don't need more details on what all of him looks like or how he is in bed. I'm having shivers down my spine just thinking about it, not the good shivers like I get when I think about Chris.

"No one," Chris answers. He covers his phone with his hand when Chord tries to seal it from him. Geez, Chord, nosy... much! Leave the guy alone, he is probably just texting his mother. No good gossip in that.

"That doesn't look like no one," Cory teases. Seriously, leave the guy alone. Why does no one show this interest in, for instance, Chord's love life. Why does everyone have to be extra excited when Chris is seeing someone? Sure, he's cute and gay couples are, scientifically proven, cuter than straight couples. But why would that make Chris' boyfriends more interesting than Harry's girlfriends?

Chris looks slightly annoyed. He seems to be deciding whether to answer that, or not. I think he shouldn't. It's none of our business who he is texting. Chris, however, decides to answer the question. "Just someone I've been texting," he says nonchalantly.

"A guy?" Harry asks with wiggle of his eyebrows. No, of course it isn't a guy. It's probably just a new friend he has met at the library, she's probably a lesbian. Chris isn't seeing anyone and he is not in love, so everyone can just stay calm. No one should panic. Everything is just fine and alright and amazing and-

"Yes, it's a guy," he admits and blushes. He is blushing! Fucking blushing! He is seeing a guy. And texting him. Chris receives wolf whistles from all the guys except for me. It's happening again. I swore to myself I wouldn't let it happen again. "He's just... he's nice. And he thinks I'm nice, so, yeah," he says and he might as well be throwing a knife in my chest, because it freaking hurts. I force myself not to cry, but my breathing gets uneven. I can't believe he is settling for _nice_. He deserves more than _nice_. He deserves everything. He deserves romance and love and being worshiped. Things I would die for to give him, but never could.

"Where have you met him?" Grant asks in that stupid, teasing sing-a-song voice of his. So, Chris is talking to a guy, big fucking deal. Again, it's not like it's any of our businesses.

"At work," he answers coolly. Great, so I probably know him. Not like that bothers me. Not the slightest. I'm... happy for Chris. Good for him. Who am I kidding? I hate whoever he is texting. I hate him, because he has the only thing I want.

"He's an actor?" Harry asks.

"Nope," Chris shakes his head.

"Singer?" Chord tries.

"No."

"Then what does he do?" Grant asks, apparently, quite desperate for the answer. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know who it is, what he looks like or what he does. I just don't think I can take it.

"He's a pilot," he shrugs and takes a bite of his neglected toast.

Grant does an actual spit-take. "Shut up!" he exclaims, still catching his breath. "You landed curly hair?" he questions, eyes wide and trying to clean his mouth. Am I the only person who noticed he said _landed_? Get it? The guy flies planes and lands them. Okay, I'm officially labeled _lame_ from now on.

"The girls are all over him," Cory groans. "Please tell me he's gay, so Lea can finally stop staring at him," he almost sounds desperate. Cory should just learn how to keep his girlfriend in control.

Chris luckily ignores Cory's stupid whining over Lea. Forgive me if I come across a little harsh on this subject, but I'm tired of them. First, Cory couldn't shut up about her and we all thought it was sweet. We put fucking effort in getting them together. Then, they were together and broke up and got together over and over again. It's horrible. It's like watching someone vomit and eat it, only to vomit again. Did I really just think that? "We've only been on one date, so it's no big deal," Chris shrugs. No big deal? I hope that stupid hobbit knows damn fucking well who he is going out with, but I won't just sit and watch Chris get disappointed again. If he is an asshole and doesn't give Chris everything he wants I will make him pay.

"You banged him?" Harry asks casually. This time it's me who does the spit-take. I mean, he can't possibly be serious right now. Have they ever heard of personal space? Apparently not. No one seems to be weirded out by Harry's question, except for Chris and I. I'm glad to see there are two sane people here.

Unfortunately Amber isn't a passenger of the sane train either. Of course she walks by as the conversation turns to Chris' (imaginary) adventure with curly. "Seriously?" she asks Chris. But before he can do so much as shake his head she's calling the rest of the girls over. "Hey girls," she calls, "Chris did curly top last night!" she informs them rather subtly. Thank God we've got our own breakfast room, because I can't imagine the things that would have happened if someone would have heard that.

In a matter of a second the girls are at our table, squealing loudly. "No, no I didn't!" Chris screams to make himself audible over all the commotion. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding. "We've only kissed," he says. Somehow that's even more unsettling. A hook-up on a first get together is a sign that it doesn't mean anything; it's just heat, nothing deeper than that. But only a kiss... that means it's going somewhere. It means it was a good date and there will be a next one. It means they really like each other and want to see each other again.

"Why?" Ashley questions, obviously not understanding Chris' actions, or, you know, the lack of it. "Why wouldn't you tap that?" she has taken his face in her hands at some point and is shaking it now. I love Ash, never doubt that. But she has turned her lifegoal into getting Chris laid. That, and her flirting with Chris, are the only things I don't like about that women.

Chris just laughs at her like only he can. That laugh. Sigh. His eyes squeezed almost shut, little wrinkles showing around his nose, sometimes even showing off his cute kitten teeth. "I'm not just going to fuck every hot guy that comes along," he explains mockingly slowly.

"You should!" Naya exclaims. Okay, that's enough! Why is everyone thinking of Chris as an object? It's insane and it has to stop! They can't just pressure him like this!

"Just leave him alone!" I almost spit as Grant opens his mouth to blend in the conversation again. "He's not a slut and that's a good thing. I think it's great that he doesn't throw himself around as if he isn't worth a thing. He can't be picky enough, in my opinion," I say maybe a little too powerfully. Some of my friends look at me with scared expressions, others look just confused. I probably should have toned down a little, but I'm sick of talk like this. They should just leave stuff like this to Chris and stay out of his business. I don't want to hear it anymore.

Chris looks at me, completely puzzled. He looks slightly frightened, too. I really didn't mean to upset him. I just wanted to help him. It seems to have worked; everyone shut up. "Thank you," Chris says, still sounding uncertain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi everyone,**

**I'm sorry this is a shitty, short chapter again, but I just can't seem to find the time nor the inspiration to write more than this. **

**I really appreciate some people actually read this and your reviews are the sweet love I kind of need right now. So I hope you like this and please give me some feedback?**

**Lots of love.**

* * *

**Chris**

I'm so glad I had the guts to ask Darren out on a second date. I really like spending time with him and I want to get to know him better. I like where this is going. I mean, we can't be close in public, for obvious reasons, but I can totally see this working out. The circumstances aren't ideal, because I'll have to rehearse and perform all the time, but I'm sure we'll find plenty of opportunities to meet up.

Last night was absolutely amazing, by the way. I can't believe that many people bought a ticket to see us sing songs and goof around on stage. I'm pretty sure it was just a dream. If it was, I had a total dreamgasm. That sounds super lame, but I can't describe the kick performing in front of thousands of people gave me. I don't think I could do it without being in character, but damn I did it!

Speaking of things I want to do. Darren. We're here at a semi-fancy restaurant and he is just being adorable. He's such a nerd, which is my weakness. And we have a lot in common, so engaging in conversation with him isn't a hard thing to do. I asked him out this time, so I picked a restaurant. I thought it would be nice to sit down at a set table and not get kicked out again. So, since he mentioned being a fan of Italy, I chose an Italian restaurant with Italian music. He seems to be enjoying himself perfectly fine. He's talking to the waiter in Italian and that really shouldn't sound this sexy.

It's only our second date, because I was rehearing and performing all day, yesterday. It made me wonder, though, what was he doing when we were performing? As far as I'm concerned he doesn't have any friends here, so what was keeping him occupied? "What have you been doing the past three days when we were rehearing and performing?" I ask and take another sip of my wine. Fuck age limit, I'll be 21 in a couple of days and it's not like I'm getting drunk... right now. Reason #47295 to love France: underage drinking is socially acceptable there. Parents _teach_ their young children to drink wine in France.

He blushes and plays with his napkin. "You don't want to know," he pretty much whispers. Why is he blushing? Oh dear, is he telling me he spent three days jacking off in his hotel room? "Not that!" he assures me as he picks up on what that sounded like. I raise my eyebrows in question of what he meant. "I've recently discovered this tv show and I have some catching up to do," he says. I desperately hope he isn't talking about _Glee_.

"What show?" I ask. I'm already suspicious. Actually, I think I'm quite sure what he has been watching. I just hope he hasn't seen the first season. I swear, that season is the reason I've been single for so long. I was nineteen years old, for God's sake! No one looks hot at nineteen.

"_Glee_," he confirms my suspicion with a pained expression on his gorgeous face. At this point I don't even care anymore. My hope is set on him watching the last episode and not liking it enough to watch all of it.

"Please don't watch season one?" I beg him, not even caring about my desperate tone. He smiles an apologetic, yet amused smile that tells me he has already seen it. "I was fresh out of high school and I was so chubby," I explain. I must be beet red, because my face is glowing hot.

He just chuckles and I cannot believe he is being such an ass. No one should look that charming when their conversation partner is this embarrassed. "You were adorable!" he says as if it's helping. Adorable really isn't what I was going for with him.

"Oh dear God," I groan. I can't believe he agreed on going on this date after he has seen that. There is only one explanation. He has not seen _Single Ladies_ yet. "Please tell me you haven't seen-"

"_Single ladies_?" he interrupts with a smirk on his face.

My. Life. Is. Over. I'm going to die alone. I should probably adopt 27 cats to fill my empty house, because I will never find love. "My life is over!" I say more to myself than to him. I run my hands through my hair, because I really feel the need to kill Ryan right now for making such a fool out of me.

"So hot!" his voice makes my head shoot up in surprise. Did he say _hot_? Are we talking about the same video? Probably not. He has to be talking about something else. "I watched that clip like a thousand times," he says and I don't even think he's joking.

I facepalm myself. "Can we please stop talking about this?" I plea. We really need to get off this topic. Like, immediately. I wish the floor would just swallow me right now. Would the universe be nice and send a meteor this way ASAP?

He nods seriously, but his neutral expression changes to a smug smile after about half a second. "Push it?" he says. No. No. No. No. He is not doing this to me. This is humiliating. Could I sue Ryan for this? "Absolute boner!" he interrupts my mental nervous break down cheerily.

"Oh my God!" I say loudly as I realize he just screamed the word _boner_ in a packed restaurant. People are staring including the staff and I would really like not being kicked out. Why do I like him so much? Why is he so funny? And why is he so sexy? "Please stop. I'm begging you," I hiss. If he dares to scream the name of any genital I will do things to him. And not hot things. Okay, maybe hot things would be more fun. I'm so not going there right now.

Luckily he notices the states too and shoots me an understanding, cute smile and a wink. "I don't like that Blaine guy, though," he states, sipping his wine.

His comment surprises me. Blaine is the best boyfriend ever. He is perfect. I'm hoping the writes write a flaw soon, because, if they don't, the perfection will just built up and he'll have to have a really dark secret to even his perfection out. "Why not? He's such a good boyfriend to Kurt," is my opinion. I like Klaine scenes best, because Blaine makes Kurt happy and I think he deserves it. Kurt has been through so much crap, so I think he definitely earned a sweet boyfriend who makes him feel loved. I don't see how Darren can not like Kurt's full blown 100% real smile.

"Those lips are mine," Darren answers playfully, voice barely above a whisper. I smile, because he is just too cute. I mean, how is he sweet and inviting and sexy at the same time? It's just not fair.

I know we're not really anything yet, but I would like to see if there is something there. Things seem to come easy for us and I like that for a change. I feel a spark when I look at him that I never expected to even exist. Things are just easy and natural, I guess that's the way dating is supposed to be.

Honestly, this is the first guy I ever went out with who didn't know my name before we met. Usually I don't just jump in to something, because there's always that possibility that they want something from me. But Darren didn't know any details about my background before I told him. I have to say, him watching the show made me feel a little uncomfortable when he said the word, because a lot of people know Kurt better than they know me. They get disappointed when they realize he is not real. But I think Darren can separate fiction and reality just fine. I think he gets that I'm very different from my character and I think he likes me better.

* * *

I don't know how this happened, but after Darren flew us to Sacramento the guys invited him over for a couple of drinks. I tried to get it out of their heads, because I really like him and my friends will probably scare him off. But they insisted on getting to know the guy who's important enough to blow them off. So at least I tried to make it clear I'm really into him and I will personally cut off their balls if they fuck it up.

I'm pretty sure Darren just agreed to their plan because he was intimidated by the guys cornering him. I figured he must have been weirded out by the strange men, so I thought it was a good idea to introduce everyone. I'm pretty sure Darren doesn't remember a single name, but I made clear that these guys are my friends and if he wants to get with me he's gotta get with my friends. When I told him that I didn't use the _Spice Girls_ quote, because that would have been just awful.

So that's how we ended up here in an, almost empty, bar. The other people here are way to old to even own a television, let alone recognize us. The bar tender hasn't seen this many people in his bar in years, I guess. He must get over worked seeing we've brought _The Warblers._ The poor guy can't even take all the orders by himself.

Darren laces his fingers with mine, so our hands are resting on my thigh now. People often think I'm insanely private about these things al the time. That's true in public, but these people are my friends, I don't have a problem with PDA in their company. Exception: Lea and Cory. I don't feel like explaining that, but they're getting on my nerves. Separately they are lovely, but when they're in the same room... don't get me started on it.

Everyone seems to like Darren just fine. They can't stop talking about planes and flying and stuff like that. I guess it's every little boy's dream to fly a plane one day. The twinkle in the guys' eyes makes them look like five year olds. It's cute how Darren has them wrapped around his finger.

We spend our time chatting with everyone at the table. Sometimes I have to whisper an explanation of an inside joke in Darren's ear. It's all working out perfectly fine until, somehow, Mark cuts off the conversation which involves the guys drooling over Darren's job. Everything turns serious. "So, I've got a couple of questions for you," he says and I'm waiting for the joke to come. "Please answer them honestly," he requests and clears his throat. I wonder what he's going to ask. "What are your intentions with my friend?" he says, his face not giving a sign of joking. Did he just... What is going on here? And, apparently, he's not finished. "Are there any irregularities in your family besides shortness? Where do you see yourself in five years? What's the longest relationship you've been in? How much money do you make? How many people have you dated?"

I'm sorry, WHAT? What just happened? What is his deal? Is he high? What makes him think he has the right to screen my... friend I go out with? I'm not imagining this is weird, right? No, because everyone is giving him the _what the fuck_ look. Except for Darren, he just looks pale and swallows thickly. "I-I" he stutters, not sure where to begin. The poor guy must be terrified. I squeeze his had. Mark looks quite threading and he tries to be a badass sometimes, but he is just a sweet little boy who cries when Bambi's mother is being shot. He's a nice guy, except for now. And I don't like that he is making Darren uncomfortable.

Mark raises his eyebrows, waiting for the answers to his stupid questions. "Mark, stop it, he's not going to answer any of those questions," I point out. I don't want Darren to feel pressured to answer Mark. "What's the matter with you?" I ask him. He doesn't answer and just looks away. He's being so cocky, I don't know what's up his ass, but he's not going to get away with it.

* * *

Yes! Mark and I sleep on the same floor. This is my chance. I haven't been able to talk to him, because we haven't been alone. I'm even more pissed after Darren was too afraid to kiss me goodbye when he left for his hotel. "What the hell was all that about?" I ask Mark when he heads for his room. "What makes you think you have the right to ask those things?" he turns around, but he won't meet my eye.

He comes up with an answer after thinking for a bit. "I just want to know who you're going out with," he says in that weird, small, cracking voice he has sometimes. I don't know if he is trying to make me take pity on him, or what, but it's not fucking working. Not this time.

I'm done with this! I'm not a baby. Fine, I'm the youngest person in the cast, but that doesn't mean they have to take care of me. I'm more mature than plenty of people in our group and I'm sick of my friends babying me. Either they baby me or they say inappropriate things. "It's none of your business!" I firmly inform him. He rolls his eyes and I can't believe his fucking guts. "What, do you think I need a fucking babysitter?" I question, crossing my arms. "Do you think I can't take care of myself? I can. I make my own decisions and I can go out with whomever the hell I want. Just because you're like ten years older doesn't mean you get to tell me what to do."

After that sentence he looks at me really intensely. I don't know why, but he looks shocked and hurt. I don't think those are usual emotions for this argument. "Well, I'm sorry for caring about you," he says, his voice even more quiet than before. "Don't worry, it won't happen again," he shakes his head and turns around to step in to his room and slam the door shut.

I don't know what his deal is. Sometimes he is acting perfectly normal and in the blink of an eye he is on the edge. It has happened a few times now and when I ask what's wrong he avoids my questions and leaves the room as soon as possible. When I ask if someone knows what is going on they tell me they haven't noticed anything. I worry about him and I want to know what's going on, but he pissed me off and I'm still expecting an apology.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Hello my fellow Crisscolfer-shippers, I would like to say a couple of things._**

**_First of all, I am deeply sorry for the long wait, but things have been crazy around me. I did manage to write a longer chapter, though. _**

**_Second, I don't know if you've noticed, but the rating changed to M. Please don't read this chapter if you aren't comfortable with reading M rated stuff. Because that's pretty much all that's to this chapter._**

**_Third of all, this is the very first time I have ever written anything M rated. I don't know if it's any good, so I would love to have some feedback. Please be honest and tell me if it is total crap. (My spelling and grammar are absolute shit, I know. Sorry about that, but I'm not fluent in English and I'm doing the best I can.)_**

**_X_**

**_WARNING: Blowjob (male x male)_**

* * *

**Darren**

I'm pretty sure this was the most terrifying lunch of my entire life. The girls felt neglected, because the guys got to meet me and they didn't. So they forced Chris to take me to lunch with them. I took their invitation without an argument, because I thought it would be fun. I thought Chris' guy friends were scary. I thought wrong! Chris has referred to Amber and Ashley as the A-team before, but I only really got it over lunch. Those girls really are a special duo. They're just... Amber and Ashley. There is no other way to describe them.

Every single one of the women was a delight, but they were terrifying nonetheless. The A-team made sure their seats were right in front of Chris' and mine. They kept shooting me glances and I honestly don't know if I can sleep tonight.

And they asked me to go clubbing tonight... That's either because they like me, or they want to murder me in the dark.

Anyway, they all took off in a bunch of cabs, but Chris and I couldn't fit anymore so we're waiting for another one. "Would you like to come to my hotel room for a bit?" YES I WOULD LIKE THAT VERY MUCH! "Okay, that sounds- I mean for like a drink. Or we could just talk without the girls trying to scare you," he rambles on. He is so cute, I could just watch him for hours. And I'm not even sure what he means by going up to his room, but I don't really care, because he is adorable and sweet and funny and lovely and nerdy and nice and goofy and sexy and talented- "You know, just forget I even asked. I was being stupid, I'm sorry," he murmurs and gets hold of a cab.

Shit. I had been so caught up in admiring I forgot to answer him. "Wait!" I snap out of my haze when he opens the door of the cab. Why did I yell that word when he is still standing right next to me? Because I'm an awkward idiot, that's why. "I-I would love to talk or whatever. It would be great. I just, I don't know, zoned out for a moment," I tell him awkwardly. Damn my inability to behave around this man!

He just smiles the awkwardness away with his breathtaking smile and we get in the cab. He tells the driver the name of his hotel.

What can I expect? I think it's best if I don't expect anything. It would be great if we would just sit and talk some more. I don't think I will ever be done getting to know him. He has a million unexpected qualities, interests and experiences. I mean, who knew he could do tricks with swords or surf? He's the most interesting guy I've ever met.

But a couple of days ago, at the airport, our good-bye kiss got sort of heated. I'm pretty sure we would have had sex in one of the chairs on the plane if it wasn't for Ashley and Amber trying to snap a picture of us.

I really should have seen that as a warning. I mean, back then I hadn't even spoken to them once and they were already trying to make a sex-tape of me. Why did I ever think they were sane human beings?

Right now the taxi stops at a fancy looking hotel. My hotel doesn't look half as fancy, but I guess the stars deserve a better place to stay than the staff. Chris pays the driver and tells him to keep the change. He leads me to his room in silence. Only when he sees the lift is empty he grabs my hand.

I can't imagine what it would be like to be chased down the streets like him. I guess some part of me is craving for that, because it means you're successful, but the thought of no privacy scares me on the other hand. But, hey, we're in an empty elevator. So that means we can kiss, right? Let's try! I lean in and he meets me halfway. It's a slow, sweet kiss, neither of us bother to deepen it, because we know the _bing_ of the lift will interrupt us soon. As if on cue the lift arrives at his floor.

We arrive at his room and he slides the card trough the lock. The little light turns green and he pushes the door open while pressing another kiss on my lips. Somehow we manage to get inside, our eyes still closed and lips never breaking contact. It becomes unbearable to go without breathing way too quickly. Stupid air.

When I slowly open my eyes and try to break the gaze we share I realize I'm in the awesomest hotel room I have ever seen! Modern lining all over the place, the bed is HUGE, there is a giant glass wall at the other side of the room with a spectacular view and is that a bar? It is! This is the kind of room you see on telly, but never ever ever can afford yourself. "Wow," is all that I can manage. I feel like I'm in a magazine. I know material stuff shouldn't matter and crap like that, but, damn, this is some cool material stuff.

Chris looks amused at me. I must be gaping like an idiot. "I know," he agrees, slightly breathlessly, he gives me the impression he is still not used to this kind of luxury himself. "I don't get why they pay so much for a room I hardly use," he says.

I wrap my arms around his neck. The room might be spectacular, but he is absolutely magnificent. "Maybe you should use it more often," I suggest. I know I should panic because of the stupid things I say all the time, but I gave up on that. It worked out pretty well up until now, so I just go with whatever words my filter less mouth forms.

He rolls his eyes. He doesn't seem annoyed, so I'm not sure if I should take it as a bad sign. "I know, I know," he says and I don't really know what that means, "I should be getting more sleep. But I'm just-"

I cut him off with a kiss, because that's my favorite way to cut him off, I've recently discovered. "That was not what I was going for," I breath against his lips as we break apart. "But, you know, I agree," I say with a brief shrug of my shoulders.

He looks puzzled. "What were you-" I raise my eyebrows. Stupid eyebrows, stop doing things I don't want you to do! "Ooh," Is what he says, his eyes wide, maybe a hint of a smile on his lips.

I scrunch my nose and rub my neck self-consciously. "Too much?" I'm afraid I've taken it too far this time. Stupid brains, stupid mouth, stupid filter, stupid-

"No," he smiles dreamily at me and wraps his arms gentle around my neck and leans in for an amazing kiss full of tongue and teeth. Isn't it amazing how different kinds of kisses can be perfect in different situations.

I wonder if this is too soon. I mean, we've met only six days ago, but I feel extremely comfortable around him. This is one of those friendships where it seems like you've known each other for years.

I shoot him a look, wordlessly asking '_This isn't too soon, is it?_' He somehow understands what I just asked and he gives me a look that says '_No, I don't think so._' "Well," I say with a soft smile, "Mr Colfer, lead the way," I say in a voice that I hope sounds cute.

I've only known this guy for a couple of days, but I really like him and this somehow feels absolutely right. I don't think of it as just sex right now. I think I'm just crazy about this man and I just want to know, see and experience him in every way possible.

We kiss, slow and sensual until he lays a gentle hand on my chest. I pull away at the soft gesture. "Wait," he breaths, "I could really use a relaxing bath right now," he says, blushing slightly. Oh, yeah we should totally take a bath together. That would be fun.

I give him a smile and that's all the assurance he needs. He pulls me in for a kiss and starts walking backwards to the bathroom. Suddenly we step on a tiled floor, so I guess we're in the bathroom. We break the kiss to breath, because, apparently, that's an important thing to do. Stupid oxygen, again you ruin the moment. We are, most defiantly, in a bathroom. A huge, giant bathroom with a shower that appears to have massaging jets and a bathtub that should be called a Jacuzzi.

Chris turns on the water and walks over to me again. I place my hands on his slender waist and he lets his travel up from my arms to my shoulders. He strokes my chest lightly with his thumbs as we kiss. I pull him in closer, so we are flush against each other. His hands run down my chest and end up at the hem of my shirt. He runs his hands over it teasingly. He watches me innocently, but when I don't give a sign of second guessing this situation he pulls my purple V-neck over my head in one swift motion. He smiles when he eyes my chest and he drops the shirt so land somewhere- why do I even care about that? Let's take his shirt off!

I start at the top button of his shirt. I try to slip the tiny buttons through the holes, but my coordination isn't that good after the cutest asked me to have a bath with him. I giggle out of embarrassment when I can't seem to get the fucking shirt open. He brings his hand to my neck and pulls me in for another breathtaking kiss. If he thinks that's going to help he is-

A knock interrupts my train of thoughts. I pull away to send Chris a questioning look. This is his room, shouldn't he answer if someone needs to see him?

He shrugs and pecks me. "Just ignore it," is his answer before he starts to help me popping the buttons on his shirt.

When his shirt is halfway unbuttoned there is another, louder, knock on the door. "Chris, we know you're in there!" an angry sounding women yells. Chris just shakes his head and kisses me again. "Open up!" demands the voice at the other side.

I sigh lightly. She obviously needs to see Chris. I understand he would rather not be disturbed, but this seems to be urgent. "Ignoring isn't going to work, is it?" I whisper as I pop the last button on his shirt.

"Shh we can try," he giggles and who am I to deny him when he is being adorable? I can't just say no to him when he is standing in front of me with his shirt hanging loose around his shoulders, flawless, pale skin showing. I can almost see his-

"Oi!" some other women yells whilst banging the door with brutal force. "Boy the bus is waiting for your skinny ass!" she cries. That obviously caught Chris' attention. His eyes snap open and he pushes at my chest.

"Shit, I forgot!" he hisses and runs a hand through his messy hair. "The stage is smaller tonight. We have an extra practice," he explains, buttoning up his shirt again. He starts running around the room collecting all kinds of articles and throwing them in a sports bag. I guess the moment has passed, so I find my shirt and pull it on again. "I'll make it up to you. I promise," he says, appearing in the doorway to the bathroom, gripping tightly to the bag strap. He steps in close again to peck me quickly.

"Don't worry. It's fine," I reassure him and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Is it a bummer we couldn't finish what we started? Absolutely. But we're in no rush, we have all summer and I don't mind waiting. He is worth the wait.

He looks at me apologetically. "Just stay here as long as you want," he tells me while grabbing his wallet from the bed and checking for his key-card. He points at the kitchen area. "You can get drinks from the bar and-"

I interrupt his rambling by taking his hand and smiling pecking his lips again. "Chris, they're waiting," I say calmly. He's so cute when he is getting worked up about nothing at all. I think there isn't a thing he couldn't make cute. "Go work your gorgeous ass off on that stage," I still can't believe he just does that. He just gets on that stage and performs. I would just love to see that sometime. "I'll be there tonight," I say. I don't know why I said that, or how I am going to get in that concert hall thing, but I'll just have to find a way.

"Really?" he asks hopefully. I nod and a beautiful smile lights up his face."Thank you, that would be great. And remember, we're all going to go out after the show to celebrate… the show, are you still planning on tagging along?"

I decide to ignore the fact that he seemed to make up the reason of the celebration. "Yeah, that would be great!"

* * *

Chris had realized that I wouldn't magically find tickets to a sold out concert, too. So he had made sure my name was on the list. I just went up to the ticket lady and said 'Hi, my name is Darren Criss. It's on the list,' and she just let me in. That was pretty cool, I've never been on a list before.

The show was amazing. Those people are magnificent singers, but Amber just blew me away. I'm not ashamed to tell you I've cried like a baby. And, of course, Chris was my other favorite. He has such an impressive voice, it's nothing like I've ever heard. I don't think I'm capable of talking about _Single Ladies_ yet.

Right now, I'm seated at some private lounge thing in a club with flashing lights and loud music. I haven't properly spoken to Chris since what happened at the hotel. I don't even know where he is right now. Ever since the concert was over I've been dragged around by everyone. Each and every one of these people seems to show genuine interest in me. I still find it hard to believe these people are Hollywood actors. They're so nice and surprisingly normal for people who are used to being on lists and having private VIP lounges.

I smoothly and politely end my conversation with a woman whose name is Naya. Yes, I memorized almost all of their names. (Although I'm pretty sure that blond dude was screwing with me when he said his name is Chord. I mean, who calls their child _Chord_?) I look for Chris, but I can't find him anywhere until I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist. He whispers a flirty greeting so close to my ear I can feel his warm breath over the shell of my ear.

I turn around in his arms and peck his lips briefly. "You could have warned me," I say in mock annoyance. I know he doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about.

"What for?" he asks, cocking his head to the side in confusion. Asdfghjkl; cute. How can he be this cute? Those big, blue eyes are just not fair. That flawless pale skin is just unf. Those freckles are just argh. I just can't. (Fine. I might have been looking at tumblr. The site just popped up on my screen a lot and it's strangely addictive when you've started.)

"For that God damn _Single Ladies _dance," I really did not mean to moan that sentence, but how can you expect me not to when I watched him thrust his hips like that not long ago. And my desperation is kind of horny teenager level right now.

"Oh my god I forgot you saw that," he giggles and nuzzles his face in my shoulder in embarrassment. "It's so embarrassing," I manage to make out of the words he speaks against my shirt.

I stroke my hands up his back. "Are you kidding me? You did great!" he laughs at my use of the word _great_. We still use that in pretty much every conversation we have. "No, seriously," I say and make him look me in the eye by moving his head off my shoulder, "that was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed. You, Mr Colfer," I tap his nose playfully, "know how to use those hips," to prove my point I squeeze his hip. Wait, how did my hand get on his hip?

"Please," he says with a sassy roll of his eyes, "that wasn't even half of the stuff I can do with my body," he purrs so close to my ear again. Oh, that's a nice mental image. A very nice one. "I had to hold back, because there were countless innocent children in that audience."

"Maybe you should show me everything sometime?" I blurt. Don't blame my stupid brains. You have no right to judge me, because you would be horny as hell too if you were in my situation.

"Maybe I should," is his response. He runs a teasing finger down my arm and I swear he fucking knows what he is doing to me. He is being such a tease, just imagine what he's like in the- NO. This is not the time to pop a boner. Play it cool.

Chris takes my hand to pull me towards the booth again. We find a secluded spot in it and no one bats us an eye. We stay like that for, I suppose, half an hour. Just talking, sitting closely together, flirting and stealing small kisses.

Chris suddenly gets up and makes his way to the dance floor. I'm pretty sure he is doing the hip swaying on purpose, but damn it's doing the trick. He turns around and gives me the most sluty look I've ever seen. He crooks his finger to me in a _come-hither_ kind of way and it's like a magical force is pulling me towards him. I can't say no when he's looking at me like that. I skip over to him and grab his hand to drag him to the mass of dancing bodies.

We start to dance, after a little while he wraps his arms around my neck to pull me in closer. I don't mind at all. I put my hands on his hips and feel them sway on the rhythm of the music.

With every song we move in a little closer. That's how we end up dancing chest to chest. We're practically grinding together. I would be embarrassed about my obvious hard on if it wasn't for his arousal pressing against my hip. Our faces are only inches apart. Occasionally we share a slightly dirty kiss. It's after a lengthy kiss full of tongue and teeth that Chris whispers "Wanna get out of here?" in my ear.

Why does he even bother to ask that question? I think I'm actually offended by it. Isn't it obvious? "God yes," I purr in his ear. He tugs on my hand to get me to the exit. I'm actually going to get to his hotel room tonight. I can't believe I'm seriously going to have sex with him. If someone has the fucking guts to interrupt this time I will personally _end_ them.

The cab drive is quite. Not an awkward silence, but a promising one. We steal sideway glances at each other and when the other looks back we smile and look away. Once again we stop at the fancy looking hotel. And once again we wait for an empty lift. Instead of grabbing my hand, Chris grabs my face and crashes his lips on mine.

I don't know how, but we end up on his bed, still kissing. Chris is placing hot kisses down my throat, but I hear him sigh and his lips still against my skin. He pulls away and runs his hands through his hair, making it stick out in every direction. "What's wrong?" I don't know what got him upset, but it can't be good.

He won't look me in the eye and I don't know if the making out or his embarrassment is the cause of his blush. "Call me a silly romantic, but I don't want our first time to be a drunken hook-up," he confesses.

He doesn't seem drunk to me and I am 100% sober, so I don't know what's making him upset. "I'm not drunk," I tell him in case that wasn't clear to him.

He frowns his brow in confusion. "But you're all flirty and straightforward," he states.

"I'm always flirty," I respond, because that's just my personality, "and clubs just give me that extra boost," I don't know what it is about the flashing lights, the rhythm of the bass and the dancing bodies, but it makes me feel more confident. "I am the DD, so I am perfectly sober," I explain. Wait a minute, I am the DD and I'm here, but the others are still at the club. Oops. "And now I realize I left the club without even saying anything," I share my stupidity. Should we go back to get everyone?

Chris answers my internal question immediately. "I'm sure they can manage to catch a cab," he whispers whilst moving in closer to kiss me again.

I only realize just now I don't taste a hint of alcohol on his tongue. "You're not drunk either?" I ask, just to be sure.

"I was staying sober for, well, this," he says and ducks his head to place kisses down my jaw. In any other situation I would think his statement was a bit weird. Like he was expecting me to put out. But for some reason Chris having expectations for tonight turns me on. Plus, he is working my neck like a pro.

I think it's sweet we both want this to be something we won't regret in the morning. I think it's only fair to do this when we're both sober. The conversation was mildly awkward, but it's good to know we're on the same page. I mean, I know we kind of started something before we were interrupted by Ashley, but I was afraid that was the heat of the moment. It's better now we've had some time to think about it.

Why am I still thinking about this? We're in a hotel room after we've been practically dry humping each other at a club. I tilt my head to deepen the kiss and he is responding enthusiastically. He runs his hand trough my hair, tugging it lightly when I lay down on my back and pull him on top of me. We never break the kiss, so he ends up half on top of me half on top of the bed. But he changes the awkward angle so he can straddle my thighs.

He stars unbuttoning my shirt, popping the buttons one by one with ease. His hands are roaming over my chest, touching every inch of exposed skin. He smiles at me and lowers his head to nip at my neck.

All of a sudden I feel a desperate hatred towards the clothes he is wearing and I decide this world would be a better place if he would lose the clothes. First thing to destroy is the stupid vest. I hate how it brings out his thin waist. I urgently unbutton it, trying not to rip them off in the process. After his vest it's his tight, white shirt's turn to find a spot on the floor next to my black shirt. And, oh my God, he is gorgeous! I've only been able to catch a glimpse of his torso before, but now it's right here in front of me. Those arms... I wonder if the tiny pink nipples are sensitive. I wonder if his abs clench when I run my fingertips over them. I wonder if the thin trail of dark hair under his belly button is as soft as the hair on his head.

I guess I'll find out the answers soon enough, because he's undoing the button on my jeans and I lift my hips so he can pull them down. I really didn't mean to buck my hips in to his in the process, but, sweet baby Jesus, that feels good. It's the friction I've been desperate for for too long.

I flip us over in one swift motion and I give myself a mental pat on my shoulder for being smooth for a change. I (not so smoothly) undo his belt and trousers before I take his jeans and his boxers off in one go.

Finally. Skin. All this skin is mine tonight. His cock is already half hard and it's long and lean like the rest of him. It's a pretty shade of red and rising proudly from his perfectly trimmed public hair. I'm just going to explore every inch of his glowing body with my hands, lips and tongue.

Or I could just see what he's got in mind. I mean he's taking my briefs off. I'm not saying no to that. Defiantly now he's positioning himself so our dicks can slide together. O-okay, that's really good. He's moving his hips so our erections rub against each other. The friction is overwhelming, but not enough. It's too dry, but I don't care, because he is taking both of our cocks in his hand and- "Oh!" I moan as he drags his hand up our lengths. I can feel the heads of our cocks being pressed together. I enjoy his too light touch for a few minutes while pressing random kisses on his hair and his neck.

I scrape my nails down his back not quit hard enough to leave marks, but with just the right amount of pleasure to draw a moan from Chris' rosy-pink lips. That sound goes straight to my groin. His hand keeps moving teasingly lightly over our flush members. I can't take the teasing anymore. I want more and I want it now.

I start to place wet, open mouthed kisses down his strong jaw line and to his chest via his long, pale neck. Reaching his collarbone, I take a moment to bite down lightly. I hear his breath hitch in his throat and his fingers dig in to my shoulder just a bit more. I know he's not mine to mark quite yet, so I only suck hard enough to redden the skin temporarily.

I continue my journey downwards until I reach one of those tiny pink nipples. His left one, to be precise. I lap my tongue over the small nub, but nothing happens. I guess they aren't as sensitive as mine.

After trying his right one and finding it doesn't do anything to him either I trail downwards until I am met with the dimples in his flat stomach. I run my lips over his abs, not really doing anything, just a feather light touch that makes the little hairs on his stomach stand up straight and the tight muscles under his skin clench. If the sounds he is making are an indication he likes what I'm doing down here, so I decide to give his stomach some more attention. His hands leave my shoulders to fist the sheets.

Before I go down to my destination I run my nose through the thin trail of hair under his belly button. I make sure to avoid his cock that is standing up proudly against his stomach, making a little wet spot where it's already leaking a bit. He teased me with his light touches, now he will be teased by me. I move my lips to his hipbone and suck and lick until another temporary mark appears there.

It takes everything not to just go down on him. For me, you see, giving a blowjob is the best thing in the world. I just love the feeling of it. I will never get tired of a dick in my mouth. The weight and warmth of it on my tongue, my mouth all filled up and the smell all around me is just pure man. Other men like being sucked, but for me it's all about the sucking. Which works out perfectly for me. Giving blowjobs is my favorite sexual activity and for many guys being blown is heaven, so it's win-win.

Without noticing I ended up in front of Chris' cock. I look up trough my eyelashes to meet his eye. His cheeks are rosy and his expression is the most hazy, relaxed thing I've ever seen. "Is this okay?" I say, voice broken with anticipation.

He shoots me a look. "Does this look like it's not okay to you?" he breaths sarcastically. It's something he does a lot, being sarcastic. I don't think it's unpleasant or rude, I think it's cute. The facial expression is just adorable.

So, anyway, I'm thrilled to hear he is okay with where this is going. I flash another smile at him before focusing on the throbbing organ in front of me again. I'm not completely done with the teasing yet, so I start with lap little kitten licks up and down the shaft. He moans uncontrollably and spreads his legs wider to give me better access.

"Darren!" he wines as I lap my tongue over the head of his, now fully erected, cock. Fine, I'll take pity on him. He's been teased enough, it's time to give him what he wants.

I suck the head in to my mouth. A deep, beasty moan rips through the silent room and I honestly couldn't tell you who it came from. I assume it was him. In an attempt to get another delicious moan out of his gorgeous body I circle the crown with my tongue before taking the first couple of inches in my mouth. I succeed in my mission of getting him to moan. I mindlessly respond with a deep groan myself.

The thing about having sex with a new person is you have to find out what they like. Sometimes I find that a pain in the ass (no pun intended) but right now it feels like a new way of getting to know Chris. It's a motivation to try every trick in the book. Exactly what I'm doing here; relaxing my throat, trailing the vein, changing the angle, playing with his balls. He seems to like it all just as much as Little D likes it all. Can we all please ignore the fact that I just mentally called my cock _Little D_?

He runs his hand through my hair and plays with some random curls. I don't know if he knows I'm a sucker for that, but that doesn't matter. I rub down on the mattress to get _some_ friction. It's hard to believe, but it's quite enough for me. He becomes more and more restless every second, his hands are giving small tugs on my hair. "Dare," he pants out to get my attention. I moan in responds and, hey, he likes that. "I-I mmm _close_," he manages to get out.

I move my hands from where they're massaging his hips to his magnificent ass. I squeeze the perfectly round cheeks lightly at first. I hear a sharp intake of breath before he moans again. I squeeze him harder while bobbing my head faster and faster up and down, taking him deeper, so the tip hits the back of my throat over and over again.

He tugs my hair harder, but I'm sure as hell not going to pull off right before the big finale. I moan in anticipation for what's about to come. I can feel myself right on the edge as well, about to topple over. He tugs my hair once more and bucks his hips up in to my throat. That's all it takes. He's coming down my throat, panting out cursing words. His cock is pulsing in my mouth and the thick liquid shooting over my tongue. That's all I need to topple over the edge myself.

After working both of us through our orgasms I pull off and swallow his load, smiling at the salty, bitter taste on my tongue. I crawl up to the bed and collapse next to him. We're still catching our breaths, but we smile when our eyes find each other. He rolls to his side to face me and places a hand on my chest, drawing random patterns with his fingers. He looks down at my softening cock and chuckles. "I was going to offer to return the favor, but I can see that's not necessary. Maybe in a round two?" he suggests.

That sounds tempting, but I don't think I'm ready for a second orgasm quite yet. "I do recall you promised me a bath," I say coyly whilst stroking through his hair. His hair is surprisingly thick, it doesn't look that way.

"Did I?" he questions playfully. "Well, I am a man of my word. And I think we could use some cleaning up," he eyes the dried come on my stomach.

* * *

After some good old handiwork in the bathtub we put on some underwear and sweats before curling up next to each other on the giant bed.

God, I'm glad he is cuddly after sex. Sometimes I feel clingy when I'm the only one who wants to cuddle. I'm not the kind of guy who leaves after the deed is done. I like sweet cuddles and making breakfast. It feels so great that this just comes natural. I didn't have to ask if I should go or sleep over; Chris just gave me some clothes for the night and got changed himself. I didn't have to hesitate to put my arms around him, because he did it first without thinking about it.

It's like this is our routine, but that doesn't make any sense, because we do not have a routine. It's like we've been together for much longer than a few days. This should scare me. This should feel weird and unnatural, but it doesn't. It feels right. It feels better than right. It feels perfect.


End file.
